Altercation of Perception
by SEZwho94
Summary: Teletraan 1 has always been the Ark's super computer, keeping watch over the Autobot cause without emotion. But when Megatron wants top secret information, he will stop at nothing to get it, even if that means turning our favorite computer into a real, emotional mech. T for violence/gore/language, and possible later suggestive themes.
1. Part 1

All righty folks, I know I update on here sporadically, but hopefully I can keep this lil' story going while I battle my way through college. Please enjoy at Teletraan 1's expense. Reviews are more than welcome and strongly encouraged. After all they make me write more.

Disclaimer: I sure as heck don't own Transformers, but this story is mine.

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Altercation of Perception

PART 1

Being the Autobot base's one and only super computer was a full time job. Though emotionless, and often monotone to reflect that lack of emotion, Teletraan 1 had a strange way of showing enthusiasm for its job. Quite simply, it got mundane tasks accomplished first to provoke negative reactions out of the Autobots, and carefully documented their displays of displeasure. It was the closest thing the super computer had to amusement.

Granted in the past viruses and other such unknowns had messed with Teletraan 1's software, and temporarily given it emotional responses. However, thanks to Wheeljack and the other Autobots, Teletraan 1 was always successfully returned to its original state of emotional neutrality.

The lack of emotion was logically preferable due to the priorities the super computer had. Emotions could interfere with the reliability of information, and that was not something Teletraan 1 could afford to risk. Its warnings were the Autobot's first line of defense. Concern, fear, or apprehension all had to be ruled out of base programming.

Teletraan 1 for the most part kept itself out of the daily lives of the Autobots, and silently observed. It was not designed to socialize amongst others, nor would it start now that they were all stranded on an alien planet. Simply, it was their ship, and shelter. Still, sometimes Teletraan 1 found itself with an unusual amount of…interest, in the Autobots.

Such as mechs like Jazz, who would bebop around like he hadn't a care in the world, talk with everyone, get along with everyone, and then return to his quarters at the end of the day where he would drop like a deadbeat. It was an unusual and extreme cycle that was repeated every day. But as it was programmed, Teletraan 1 never interfered with Jazz's life.

Then of course, there was Prowl, who the super computer would observe until the late hours of the night, slaving away at his work. Both being highly logical, Teletraan 1 fully understood Prowl's need to get work done, but could not understand why the mech would allow himself to physically suffer from the work load. He'd neglect drinking energon, socializing, and exercise just to accomplish his daily quota, and begin the cycle anew the very next day. To the logical computer, the assistance of another mech was obviously required. But Teletraan 1 would never tell Prowl its conclusion, nor suggest it had ever come up with the idea. It was an observer and only that.

There was also the leader of the Autobots, Optimus Prime, whom Teletraan 1 found itself observing the most. Calm, even tempered, and ever wise, in front of his fellow Autobots, Optimus looked like nothing could ever break him. Teletraan 1 knew better. Optimus Prime was far more like his soldiers than anyone seemed or cared to realize. Alone in his quarters, his impressive stature would sink, and all the centuries of war would suddenly show its wear and tear. Teletraan 1 predicted that one day Optimus Prime would reach a breaking point and a new leader would be required, but for now, the position of Prime was in good hands, and Teletraan 1 was more than able to aid the leader.

Teletraan 1's list of observations only grew larger, from Bumblebee's near hostile behavior when he was alone after making a mistake on a recent mission, to Mirage's emotional breakdowns that only Hound was able to soothe. It witnessed Ratchet drown himself in high grade whenever he'd barely managed to save an Autobot, and had seen Red Alert act level headed in front of a emotionally taxed Inferno. The computer had observed Brawn grudgingly hug Huffer when he'd been trying to cheer him up, and watched Grimlock cradle Swoop in his arms until the smaller Dinobot had fallen into recharge after a fierce battle.

Teletraan 1 was always there watching, never partaking, and always aware of every activity. Super computer as it was though, it was subject to malfunction and hacking, and thoroughly decided that Sideswipe was the last mech it would ask for assistance if anything went awry in its programming. After all, the red hellion was always there trying to get past the firewalls it set up to damage the information Teletraan 1 had gathered so he could cover up a prank.

At present, the base was quite, most bots deep in recharge, and safely tucked away in their quarters. Teletraan 1 checked through its readings, making sure there was no activity outside of base, with Red Alert's constant aid. If a computer could be grateful for assistance, Teletraan 1 certainly would have been.

With nothing out of the ordinary appearing on any scans, or on any broadcasts, the super computer moved on to organizing the information it had compiled during the day, sorting out what was significant, and what could be filed away as fodder. The process was as close as Teletraan 1 could get to any form of recharge without shutting down all functions.

But suddenly Teletraan 1 noticed movement in the security director's room, and saw that the paranoid mech was having a mild form of panic attack. Swiftly the computer shifted through all the data the mech had been observing, and swiftly concluded that Ravage was trying to infiltrate. Wasting no time, the super computer swiftly activated a warning throughout the base, awakening those in recharge, and alerting those on night duty.

As anticipated, Optimus Prime was immediately at the main console.

"Teletraan, what is it?" voice disguising his true grogginess, the Prime wasted no time getting down to business. Shortly to arrive after him was Prowl, followed by a sleepy Jazz and recharge deprived Red Alert, as well as Trailbreaker and Hound.

Rather than responding through speech, Teletraan 1 simply pulled up the footage of Ravage sneaking around on the main monitor. That snapped everyone to alert, although Red Alert suddenly passed out. The super computer found Red Alert's reaction was the one it had been aiming for, and was admittedly fascinated by the result. Although the Autobots would never know it had intentionally tried to make Red Alert faint.

"Trailbreaker, get Red Alert to Ratchet immediately, Jazz, round up Bumblebee and Mirage to deal with Ravage. Prowl take over Red Alert's post and make sure there is no other Decepticon activity nearby," Prime ordered his mechs into action with practiced ease.

"Anomaly detected at the Ark entrance," Teletraan 1 suddenly voiced to recapture the leader's attention, just as everyone else headed out to carry out their orders.

"Affirmative Teletraan, Hound, come with me," Optimus Prime began to depart, the green mech hot on his heels. The leader quickly activated his comm, "This is Optimus Prime, there is a Decepticon threat at the Ark entrance. All soldiers report to the entrance immediately."

With that, the Prime was gone, leaving Teletraan 1 to monitor the situation from his multitude of cameras and detectors. The super computer observed Megatron undergoing a full on assault with all his troops. Though unusual, Teletraan 1 simply recorded the information, but drew no conclusions from it. After all, drawing conclusions was not the computer's job.

As the battle raged on outside, and heavy damage was applied to Teletraan 1's orange hull, a new anomaly made itself present to the super computer. A state that could almost be called confusion caused Teletraan 1 to reevaluate the situation, only to conclude that Soundwave was indeed standing in the Autobot command room, and was syncing with the super computer's main console.

Immediately firewalls went up to protect information, layer after layer putting distance between Teletraan 1's processes and Soundwave's invasive presence. However, the act of obtaining information did not appear to be the Decepticon's primary objective. Rather, an unknown spherical device was plugged into the super computer, and within moments, systems began to fail, and quite suddenly, everything cut out, leaving the super computer's thought processes stuck in a continuous loop, suspended in a great unknown. It had no way to fathom what was in store for it.


	2. Part 2

And now my readers, everything for Teletraan 1 goes downhill and you may find reasons to hate me. This chapters darker, you have been warned!

Hope you all enjoy!

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PART 2

A groaning noise was the first thing for Teletraan 1 to experience after an indefinite period of nothingness. Sudden confusion hit Teletraan 1 hard, the sensation completely foreign to it. Something was wrong. An input of new information streamed into the computer's processor, alerting it of sensations. Touch, heat, taste, smell, all new.

"Open your optics mech, I know you are awake," a grisly voice suddenly ordered Teletraan 1, which only confused it even more.

Though the voice was familiar, the fact it was being referred to as a mech was beyond confusing. It was a super computer, it had no resemblance of gender.

"I said open your optics!" the voice lost patience, and a new sensation hit the computer. The heat it had been experiencing intensified to an unbearable degree, until the sound of scream split into the air.

It took a moment for Teletraan 1 to realize that it was he who was screaming, and that he was in fact, now inside of the body of a mech. Bright golden optics snapped open, and the pain faded in response to the action.

For the first time, Teletraan 1 looked around, absorbing the fact that he was inside of an orange and bronze body, only a protoform judging by the lack of armor and exposure of delicate parts. He then noted that his arms were clamped to a berth, as well as his legs and torso. His confusion faded as fear took over, fully absorbing what had been done to him.

"You…You turned me into a mech!" disbelief was the first emotion for Teletraan 1 to verbally express.

Megatron laughed at his little exclamation, as if he were watching a youngling learn to transform for the first time. It was a look of pride, though his smile carried a sinister edge.

"W-Why!?" Teletraan 1 looked up at the tyrant in horror, and finally noticed Soundwave and Hook lingering behind him. The pair did not bode well for him, according to his logs on Autobot prisoners that had been liberated from their clutches. Prisoners always came back horribly damaged, both physically and mentally. Teletraan 1 easily deduced he would crack easier than any normal Autobot would because of his lack of experience with pain and a physical body. Whatever these Cons had in mind for him, it would not be pretty.

"Hook, make sure that the prisoner is secure," Megatron did not bother to answer Teletraan 1's question, instead simply allowed his sinister smile to grow.

Teletraan 1 could feel his fuel pump suddenly pounding in his chest, and correlated the physical reaction with the anxiety and fear he was presently experiencing. Without any given time to adjust to his new body, he full out panicked when Hook drew closer.

The Decepticon medic suddenly fastened tight bolts into the former super computer, making the bot screech in pain and writhe out of reflex. It was easy to see this would be a quick session.

Teletraan 1 panted hard as Hook drew back, trying to recuperate as the pain began to slowly dull. Never had he anticipated that he'd wind up in such a position, helpless in a physical body before the Decepticons.

A sharp intake of air cycled through him as a new sensation hit him, one in the base of his neck. He jerked, trying in vain to get away from it. His efforts only made energon run down his wrists, torso, and legs, the bolts causing him heavy damage the more he struggled.

"Stop it! Please!" Teletraan 1 begged with no avail, and Soundwave's presence once again seeped into his consciousness.

However, here in the relative safety of his mind, Teletraan 1 felt some form of control. He put up his firewalls, protecting his information even as Soundwave pounded away at his defenses. They could break his body, but the mind of a super computer would never crack under such weak tactics.

"Any success?" Megatron inquired impatiently, and Teletraan 1 had nearly forgotten he was there.

"Status: unyielding, mental barrier requires further weakening," Soundwave's monotone response of failure was one little victory Teletraan 1 found himself clinging to. Just maybe he could put up with this until the Autobots came to his rescue? Did they even know what had happened to him?

A harsh electrical shock knocked all sense out of the newly created mech. He writhed and screeched even louder than before, tugging at his bonds and only further damaged himself. The electrocution suddenly stopped, giving the orange and bronze mech a moment to cycle before being electrocuted again. The process became a timed cycle, for every minute that Teletraan 1 was zapped, he would have ten seconds to recuperate and anticipate the next shock. It was maddening, making the mech begin to break down, pleading, yowling, and screaming for his captors to stop the abuse, but they never did.

Finally Megatron had grown bored of the same approach, and swapped out the electricity for something more barbaric. It was simple enough, a metal rod, cylindrical in shape, with small pegs on one end. Teletraan 1's optics widened at the torture weapon.

"Give us your information Teletraan, and we will stop this," Megatron suddenly offered, waving the rod in front of the terrified mech in warning.

Teletraan 1's processor raced, emotions conflicting with his thoughts. He had a strange sense of right and wrong, pain and relief. The right thing to do would bring him pain, the wrong thing would bring him relief. But deep in his programming, he was an Autobot, something that sought to protect and preserve. If that meant losing his newfound life to protect his comrades, so be it.

"N-Never," the mech weakly managed to cough up.

"Oh, so unwise," Megatron sneered in disgust, before he began to beat the prisoner, unrelenting as the bot screamed and cried.

Teletraan 1 lost track of time, but eventually, the three of them left him alone, trembling and losing energon in the dark. He winced his optics open weakly, looking around the now dark room. He knew this would only continue the following day, and that his weak frame would not be able to take much more of this. That of course, was his logic speaking. His new emotions raged and soared, making him imagine horrific outcomes, picture different ways the tyrant could damage him. It was enough to make his shudders intensify, even if the action brought on more pain thanks to his tight restraints.

Oh how he wished he could return to his safe hub back on the Ark, go back to being the unfeeling super computer that kept everyone safe. The physical world was too painful for him, too extreme. The only thing that kept him from terminating himself was the fact he had all the Autobot's information, and that information could be lost forever if he were to perish.

Weakly Teletraan 1 turned his head and looked over at the nearby counter. There were tools on it, tools that could possibly help him escape, but he had no way of reaching them. His frame was a basic one, and it was obvious Megatron never expected Teletraan 1 to leave this torture chamber alive. The mech shut his optics, dreading and fearing what the following day had to bring.

It took him some time, but eventually the mech was able to shut down into a light recharge. He twitched in his sleep, awakening at even the slightest noise for fear of the torture session resuming while he was unconscious. His paranoia only mounted as morning drew nearer, and a pit formed in what must have been his tanks, although he had no words for the sensation.

When the far door suddenly opened, it took all of Teletraan 1's willpower not to cry out in despair.


	3. Part 3

Well folks, here be another installment for you to enjoy. And a special thanks to **sonicxjones, Devil-O-Angel, Swiftpaw2012,** and** IBrokeThe4thWall **for reviewing! Your feedback inspires me to keep going!

So without further ado, let's get on with the story! And please don't kill me for being mean!

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PART 3

"Please no, please, please stop, please, please no," Teletraan 1 rambled on like a broken record, his gold gaze glued to the deep purple ceiling, one of his optics now shattered and leaking energon.

Deep gouges laced across his fragile frame, while several of his fingers had been ripped off in the slowest, most painful way possible. A long, jagged slash ran up his cheek, beginning at his lip, leading all the way to his damaged optic. He had been forced to swallow acid, making his internals scream at him in pure agony, but Teletraan 1 had slowly begun disconnecting himself from the physical world, burying himself within his mind, trying to hide from all the pain. But just as he'd tried to shut down, Soundwave entered his mind, dragging him back into the physical world, and repeated the process all over again. Teletraan 1 had no words for this kind of suffering.

A sudden warning rang through the base, cutting short Hook's present process of sawing off Teletraan 1's leg at his hip joint. The mech panted weakly, on the verge of fainting from pain. Oblivious to their victim's struggle to stay online, Megatron swiftly ordered Soundwave to follow him and investigate the problem.

"Hook, kill him if anything unplanned takes place," Megatron instructed simply, and left with Soundwave.

The medic was silent until Megatron left, before rounding on Teletraan 1. The broken bot shuddered, fearing what the mech would do to him while he was alone. Would he finish sawing off his leg? Was he going to pull out an even worse device to torture him with? His single functioning optic grew round as Hook picked his saw back up, and instead of resuming his work, he put it away.

Dumbstruck, Teletraan 1 could only stare as Hook began to repair his hip, stopping the energon flow and rewiring the cut circuitry.

"W-What are…"

"If you're going to be ungrateful about repairs, I can always stop," Hook cut him off sharply.

Blinking shortly, the damaged mech had no idea of what to make of that. Nowhere in his databanks were there recordings of Decepticons being merciful. This had to be some kind of trick, or a way to make him feel even worse later.

"W-Why?" his voice came out weak and tired, static laced in it from all of his screaming.

"Megatron does not fully understand the value in keeping you alive," Hook explained simply, and pulled back, finished with his hip, "I however, do."

Teletraan 1 could only blink dully at the Con medic, and watched him go. He supposed Hook's line of thought made sense when comparing it to the frequency of Decepticon insubordination, but still, the notion he was better alive then dead stirred something within him. Did he really want to live after all of this? A resounding yes rattled from deep within him, coming from someplace he could not identify.

Blaster fire suddenly met the mech's audios, and he diverted his gaze to the door. Why would there be blaster fire? He could help but jerk when the door opened, trembling in fear of another session. He couldn't take this anymore, will or no will to live set aside.

Confusion hit him as no bot entered the room, and the door instead slipped back shut. He shivered, shutting his optic tight. His fear of more pain made him assume the worse, that Megatron was actually some ghost that could kill him with ungodly powers.

Teletraan 1 couldn't stop himself from yelping as a hand rested on his shoulder. He shuddered and tried to draw away from the touch, looking up only to see nothing. He stared at the emptiness, before a new, vague hope slowly grew within his chest.

"M-Mirage?" he flinched back again, afraid he'd be slapped in response to the inquiry.

The Autobot materialized before him, his normally cold disdainful gaze soft and gentle, offering the beaten mech a small smile of reassurance.

"You look horrid. Don't move while I get you out of this," Mirage instructed, and began to work on removing the clamps keeping Teletraan 1 fastened to the table.

"B-But…how d-did you know I-I was here?" he whimpered from Mirage's effort to free him, though the pain was more manageable than the other things Megatron had done to him.

"Megatron was sending us footage of your sessions."

Teletraan 1 swallowed hard at that, and cringed when Mirage succeeded in freeing both of his arms, and gingerly lowered them to his sides. Having never been able to move as a mech, the bot found he preferred his arms down beneath him.

"B-But…it c-could have b-been anyone," though glad to be rescued, the orange bot just wanted to make sense of it all, "There w-was n-no proof it w-was me."

"Tell me what happened last week, in my room, after refueling for the night."

Teletraan 1 blinked at that, and slowly thought back, temporarily distracted from his pain as Mirage managed to free his torso.

"C-Could you be more specific? There w-was a number of instances, one in which you emotionally b-broke down and didn't recharge at all. Then Hound found you the f-following morning and coaxed y-you into talking about it. U-Unless y-you are referring to the instance wh-when you snuck out to…"

"You are Teletraan 1, without a doubt," Mirage smiled lightly as he finished freeing the bot's legs, and then gingerly picked him up.

Teletraan 1 sucked in a sharp hiss at being moved, shutting his functional optic tight. If all contact brought this pain upon him, he didn't want to be touched by anyone. He whimpered softly as Mirage began to carry him out of the room, where the sound of laser fire intensified. Having only experienced battle through the relative distance a console offered, Teletraan 1 found battle up close in person was not something he enjoyed.

"No more please…no more…" he cowered into Mirage's form, just wanting to disappear.

To his dismay the sounds of battle only intensified, and Teletraan 1 forced himself to open his optic and look at where they were going. To his amazement, instead of Decepticons running over to them, it was Autobots. He gasped softly, staring up at none other than Optimus Prime. As a computer, he'd never understood the reason why Prime could command respect from even his rowdiest troops, but now that he had a physical body, it all sort of made sense to the bot.

"O-Optimus Prime," he barely managed to say the name, his voice weakening even further.

The Autobot leader looked down at Teletraan 1 with calm, comforting optics, and gently took him off Mirage's hands.

"It is good to see you, old friend," Optimus held Teletraan 1 easily, his gaze softening as the injured bot passed out in his arms. He had gone through a lot during his time with the Decepticons.

"Autobots, fall back! We have what we came for," Optimus ordered his troops, who all gave a cheer of victory.


	4. Part 4

I'd like to thank **Kuluno1986, sonicxjones, **and **Swiftpaw2012 **for their reviews! Its your feedback that keeps me going.

Now let's get on back to the story shall we?

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PART 4

Teletraan 1's optics came online slowly, and the first thing he noticed was both of his optics were working. Then panic set in as he realized he was lying down on a berth once again. The mech jerked upright with a scream, lashing out when hands pressed him back down.

"Let me go! Stop it!" he tried to struggle, going on pure instinct.

"Teletraan calm down, it's just me, Ratchet!" a familiar voice shouted at him, making him immediately cease his attempt to escape.

The orange and bronze mech blinked slowly, his golden gaze at last focusing on the medic holding him down. Recognition slowly clicked, and he relaxed.

"Ratchet," he looked around the med-bay, taking it in for the first time from a physical perspective. It all seemed so much larger now.

"That's a good mech, we're all on your side here," Ratchet reassured the bot, and pat his shoulder.

Teletraan 1 jerked at the pat, shuddering as memories of pain being produced by contact resurfaced. He watched Ratchet quickly pull his hand back, holding it up innocently.

"That didn't hurt you did it?"

The question called for the automatic answer of yes, but Teletraan 1 held his glossa, contemplating the answer a moment. Had it actually hurt him? He stared down at his shoulder, but blinked, seeing no trace damage. His gaze swung down to the rest of his bare frame, absorbing the face that fresh welds decorated his body, and an energon line was being fed into his arm. But surprisingly, nothing hurt beyond a dull ache.

"I don't understand," he muttered softly.

"Don't understand what Teletraan?" Ratchet pressed gently, the medic obviously hesitant to try touching the bot again.

Teletraan 1 lifted his gaze, "Why does nothing hurt?"

Ratchet seemed taken aback by the question, and he opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to form an answer. He sighed softly, and offered out his hand to the mech.

"I repaired your frame, nothing is supposed to hurt anymore."

Teletraan 1 focused on Ratchet's palm, and then looked down at his own. Very slowly, he lifted his limb, the sensation of movement foreign to him. Being bound to a berth at the Con base had not allowed him to experiment with his new body. With some effort, the newly built bot managed to raise his hand and touched Ratchet's palm with the tip of his finger. To his relief the action caused no pain, and a faint smile formed.

He shifted his gaze up to meet Ratchet's blue optics, his smile growing just a bit. With pain out of the equation, Teletraan 1 found that the sensation of touch was actually fascinating. He pulled his hand back, changing his focus once more to examine it, flexing his fingers and then rotating his wrist. The dexterity was phenomenal, and only made a feeling of giddiness grow within the mech.

"You look like you're enjoying that," Ratchet commented with a smirk, keeping a close optic on everything Teletraan 1 was doing.

"Enjoyment; I suppose that would be the word for it," Teletraan 1 nodded shortly and lowered his hand once again, "I have not yet had the chance to, enjoy, anything."

He watched Ratchet's expression suddenly skew into one of sympathy, and Teletraan 1 found he couldn't keep his gaze on the medic. He lowered his head a bit, staring down at his frame. Timidly he lifted his hand and trailed his finger over the fresh welds, wincing from the dull ache.

"Careful there, don't want you to hurt yourself," Ratchet gently stopped Teletraan 1's hand, and winced when the mech jerked again.

Teletraan 1 tucked into himself, shying as far from Ratchet's hand as possible. He was slowly beginning to understand that while touch was actually a fascinating sensation, being touched still triggered a reaction in his body to recoil without his consent.

"Um, where are the others? The medical bay is seldom empty, especially after battle," Teletraan 1 quickly changed the subject, having seen other mechs do so before to avoid a topic or problem.

"I cleared it out; figured you'd be more comfortable if there weren't a lot of mechs in here staring at you," Ratchet explained calmly, feeling bad the newly created bot was conditioned to fear physical contact.

Teletraan 1 blinked shortly at that, and then nodded, "Thank you. I appreciate the consideration."

Carefully, he began to shift, moving his legs under his own power for the first time, as well as tested the flexibility of his back as he arched it, before suddenly relaxing. He then refocused on the medic hovering over him.

"Am I allowed to sit up?"

Ratchet paused in consideration, before sighing, "Yeah, you can give it a try. Just go slow, and find your balance."

The bronze mech nodded and carefully propped his elbows against the berth. He frowned, pulling up files on Cybertronian coordination, and playing them in his head, processing their exact movements. Satisfied he understood, he opened up his palms, and managed to push himself upright, feeling cables flex and adjust not only within his arms, but his torso and back.

"Huh," he cycled out a soft breath as he succeeded in sitting, looking around with his new perspective. It was different from anything he'd ever experienced.

"You all right there Teletraan?" Ratchet watched him nervously, fearing his patient could collapse on him at any moment.

The mech nodded, a small hint of a smile trying to surface on his faceplate, "Yes, I am. In fact, this is fascinating; depth and perception are constantly being compensated for without any conscious effort, it's flawless."

Ratchet smiled at that, chuckling softly, "Guess that's something we bots take for granted eh?"

"Yes, if you have experienced no different, I suppose it would be logical you would. Hmm, but you can't calculate volume with only a glance, what a shame," Teletraan 1 frowned a moment, trying to get used to his new limitations and abilities. It would surely take some time.

"Some of us can give pretty good guesses, like Perceptor for instance," Ratchet walked around him, scanning him over, "How do you feel?"

Teletraan 1 leaned back on his hands, contemplating his answer before he discovered he could run an internal diagnostic just like he could in his old 'body'.

"I am fully functional, if my readings are accurate."

To his surprise, Ratchet did not look satisfied with his answer. He ran his diagnostics again, fearing he'd missed something. He got the same readings as before; everything was working as it should.

"Am I missing something?" Teletraan 1 inquired, being very literal about his question.

Ratchet blinked at him, pausing before he answered, "Technically you still need armor, which Wheeljack is working on as we speak. But I meant how do you feel in here," he tapped on his helm and then his spark, "not physically."

"Oh," Teletraan 1 deflated, trying to understand what Ratchet meant. He had to mean how he felt emotionally, he could think of nothing else.

"I feel," he hesitated, "Overwhelmed. These emotions are not something I'm used to dealing with. They trigger different lines of thought, and stray from logic. It's, strange."

Ratchet nodded slowly, seeming to accept that answer, "Well, that'd be normal for us mechs, except maybe Prowl," the medic managed a smirk, "But he's not normal."

Teletraan 1 blinked shortly at that, before a smile quirked at his thin lips, a new emotion flooding through him, something he could relate with fascination, only much more intense and enjoyable.

"Guess that is kinda funny huh?" Ratchet scanned over some of the equipment monitoring the bot's vitals, nodding in approval that everything was stable.

"Funny," Teletraan 1's optics widened ever so slightly, "so that is how it feels…humor feels good. Sideswipe's pranks make far more sense now."

Ratchet stared at the mech for a moment, hardly able to believe the things that were coming out of his mouth. When he'd first received Teletraan 1's battered body, Ratchet had feared the worst, and was sure the mech would contain deep scars in his psyche and express much more fear and caution than this. But if anything, Teletraan 1 was proving to have a healthy quantity of curiosity as well as possessing far more insight about the crew of the Ark on a personal level Ratchet hadn't expected. But then again, he was the Ark's super computer. The mech had seen it all and more.

"Sideswipe's pranks are over the top and downright dangerous at times. There's better ways to get a good laugh," Ratchet grumbled softly, not liking the idea of their ship's main computer condoning the prankster's actions.

"Agreed," Teletraan 1 nodded shortly, surprising the medic once again, "his continuous tampering with my systems was highly uncalled for."

Annoyance flickered through the newly constructed mech, an emotion he recognized because he'd almost possessed it as an emotionless computer. Almost.

"Often I had to sacrifice processing power to correct the damage that red menace had done… Although I was not always fast enough to prevent Red Alert from having a breakdown. Rather unfortunate as I liked his additional help in monitoring the activities of the crew."

Ratchet was utterly speechless, something that did not often happen. The entire crew had always written Teletraan 1 off as a mere computer, without any form of sentience or concept of camaraderie. Ratchet was very rapidly coming to terms with the fact they had been horribly wrong. But Teletraan 1 was never meant to have such higher functions such as preferences; something had happened to the computer while it had still been a part of the Ark, something that Ratchet was now determined to uncover.

"Any mech that dislikes the prankster is ok in my book," Ratchet simply stated, keeping his revelation to himself. He'd have to discuss this with the other officers later.

"That is rather biased of you," the orange and bronze mech assessed, "But I appreciate the sentiment."

Ratchet snorted softly and shook his head, another flicker of a smile playing on his lips, "You talk just like Prowl ya know that?"

"We both gain understanding of situations through logic, it is hardly coincidence that we analyze in a similar fashion. Although," Teletraan 1 faltered a moment, "this physical form makes rationalizing difficult. I do not like these negative emotions, they're burdensome."

Ratchet instinctively made to give the mech a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, though at the last moment stopped himself. Teletraan 1 was still fearful of being touched, so the medic instead let his hand fall back to his side.

"I'm sorry, we're trying to figure out how to fix all this as we speak."

Sighing softly, and unaccustomed to the relief it brought, Teletraan 1 found himself simply lying back down on the berth, fatigue pressing him to do so, "Thank you. Your efforts are much appreciated."

Ratchet simply nodded, "Get some rest Teletraan, you've earned it."

Teletraan 1 was out before Ratchet had even finished speaking, powering down into a deep recharge. He didn't even twitch as Ratchet hooked his system up to another monitor, just incase.


	5. Part 5

Whelp folks, I'm so glad you're enjoying this little story of mine, it gives me warm fuzzies all over. Once again I'd like to thank **IBrokeThe4thWall, Koluno1986, Swiftpaw2012, DemonSurfer,** and our mysterious **guest** for their reviews. And I'm glad you decided to hop on board DemonSurfer! Well, let's get on with the story shall we? I will warn you, there may be a gap in my updating because I have a huge art project to work on. Just letting you know.

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PART 5

"So what's tha damage Doc?" Ironhide asked gruffly, he and the rest of the officers all gathered and seated around the meeting room table, as well as Smokescreen. Seeing as the blue mech was once a psychologist, Prime had deemed it beneficial for the mech to be there and give any of his thoughts on this peculiar situation.

Ratchet rocked back in his chair, the formalities of an officer meeting not really mattering much to the white and red medic. He'd saved these mechs from the brink of death so many times they may as well been indebted to him a thousand times over. Not that he took advantage of that fact. He had more important matters to attend to.

"Hmm," Ratchet paused, composing his thoughts as his optics flickered over the datapad with his medical notes glowing dimly on the screen. Everything pertaining to Teletraan 1's new form was on them, "Teletraan, as far as I can see, is responding well to treatment. His time with the Cons has made him…sensitive to being touched, but other than that, he's doing remarkably well."

"Well, he is jus' a computer," Jazz stated offhandedly.

The comment made Ratchet's optics narrow, an icy glare immediately being cast at the mech's thoughtlessness.

"He's not just a computer," Ratchet practically growled, tension in the room immediately rising. Red Alert shifted nervously in his seat, certain Ratchet was about to unleash his unholy wrath upon the misunderstanding saboteur.

Ironhide rested a restraining hand on the medic's shoulder, while Prime cleared his vocal processor, recapturing Ratchet's attention.

"Ratchet, if you would please enlighten us instead of try and burn a hole through Jazz with just your optics…" Optimus Prime folded his hands together neatly, his voice alone quelling the tension in the room.

Ratchet rolled his shoulder, knocking Ironhide's hand off it before he cross his arms, looking peeved, but at least cooperative.

"It's like I said, he's not just a computer. He came to briefly after surgery, and was understandably confused. But, that wasn't what surprised me. He was curious, and emotional. He has a spark Prime, and I don't even know how it got there! He's as sentient as sentient can get!"

The room was completely silent for a long moment, the officers exchanging glances with one another, or just staring at the CMO in complete and utter disbelief. Expectedly, Red Alert was the first to break the silence.

"What if it's not Teletraan 1, but a mech undercover pretending to be the super computer!?"

"Red Alert," Prime began, knowing a full out meltdown was coming if he didn't intervene, "Ratchet already confirmed that the protoform was recently constructed."

"And the spark is brand spanking new," Ratchet cut in before the security director could find some loophole in the Prime's logic, "You can't fake that."

The red and white Lamborghini sat back in his chair without another word, his optics wide, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief.

"Besides, Teletraan spoke highly of you Red. He mentioned how helpful you are with monitoring the base."

Red Alert simply nodded, swallowing dryly as his gaze fell down to stare at the table. It was obvious the security director's doubts had been quelled for now. Ratchet simply took the silence as his cue to resume explaining.

"Anyway…Teletraan right now is in a delicate state. The Cons put him through Pit, and I'm afraid crowds of curious mechs and too much attention will cause him to have a breakdown of some sort. I want him in my bay for the rest of the week, no exceptions, and no unapproved visitors."

"That is reasonable. But you mentioned Teletraan has developed a deep curiosity," Prowl finally spoke up, having been gathering all the variables he could during the course of the meeting, "I believe some form of entertainment and structure must be set up to occupy him. Even well behaved mechs are troublesome when they're bored," Prowl's optics flickered over to Jazz briefly, earning a cheeky grin from the saboteur.

"I believe that can be easily remedied," Ratchet nodded briefly.

Ironhide suddenly cut back in, his gaze turning towards Optimus, looking perturbed about something, "This is all fine an' dandy, but whut are we gonna do without Teletraan monitorin' things an' makin' tha base run? I can't even access a terminal without gettin' billions o' error messages!"

"I am well aware Ironhide, I have already asked Wheeljack and Perceptor to look into the problem."

"Oh great, the whole base is gonna blow up," the red mech grumbled, but not quite loud enough for his leader to hear.

"Are there any other issues anyone would like to address?" Optimus looked over his mechs, waiting patiently.

"Yeah um, are we planning on putting Teletraan back into the Ark? He's kinda vital, and I'm not sure I can make a program as powerful as he was," Wheeljack spoke up, an intrigued Perceptor at his side nodding in agreement with the question.

"I believe, that will be up to Teletraan. If he wishes to return to his function as our base, that will be his decision." Prime answered sagely, putting any other doubts in other officers' minds to rest, "I will make an announcement to the rest of the Autobots about Teletraan's condition. Dismissed."

The officers all nodded and got up, heading out back to their regular duties, save one. Smokescreen went to Optimus, frowning thoughtfully up to the great leader.

"What is your opinion Smokescreen?"

The deep blue Datsun hefted out a short sigh through his vents, "Can't say just yet. I'll have to talk one on one with Teletraan before we make any more decisions for him."

"Understood. You have my permission to visit him, and if Ratchet takes issue with this, he can take it up with me."

"Yes sir," Smokescreen nodded, and then saluted before heading out and going out on his previously scheduled patrol with Bluestreak.

Optimus Prime went to his office, and sat down on his large comfortable chair with a rattling sigh. Even with Teletraan 1 back in their custody, things were not going to go back to any semblance of normal for a very long time, and Optimus wasn't sure if this change was for the better or the worse.


	6. Part 6

Heya there guys! Sorry for skipping an update last week, but art school's been kicking my butt as of late. Huge projects to be done, so little time. Updates may be sporadic at best for the next few weeks until fall break, so please hang in there with me. And I'd like to give a special thanks to my reviewers, who make writing this such a pleasure.

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PART 6

Teletraan 1 sat quietly on his berth, having been moved into a private room in the back of the med-bay. Ratchet had explained it was for his benefit, but without anyone to focus on or activity to monitor, Teletraan 1 was experiencing boredom for the first time in his life. He shifted gingerly, golden optics flickering around the plain room for what had to be the thousandth time. He'd counted every seam and flaw in the ceiling, walls, and floor, and had moved onto to calculating the number of bolts holding wall panels in place.

The door to the room opened with a soft swoosh, and immediately captured Teletraan 1's attention. He jerked ever so slightly out of pure reflex, his fear of being attacked irrational, but there.

"Oh, Smokescreen," the bronze and orange mech cycled out a low sigh of relief, "Ratchet informed me you would be visiting sometime."

The blue Datsun flashed a friendly smile, and pulled up a stool that was already in the room, quickly seating himself alongside the recovering mech.

"He did? Well good; did he tell you why I'm here?"

"I've already deduced you are here to check on my current psyche and make sure I am mentally stable before I am introduced to any other Autobots."

"There's no hiding anything from you is there?" Smokescreen cracked a friendly grin of amusement, which Teletraan 1 found himself unable to reciprocate.

"I have been watching over this base since it was still a ship. There is little I have not seen," voice bland, the newly constructed mech rubbed his bare arms gingerly. His gaze began to grow distant, sadness he did not understand slowly enveloping him.

Smokescreen frowned thoughtfully, assessing the mech's behavior. He grunted softly at something before he pulled out a datapad.

"Here."

Teletraan 1 blinked shortly, looking down at the offered datapad. He tilted his head ever so slightly, tentatively reaching out to accept the glowing device. He inspected it meticulously, realizing just how light it was, and how he could even brighten its glow. He let a slender finger tap the screen, his optics widening slightly as he absorbed the text.

"This is a collection of classic literature," he looked back up at Smokescreen, pleasantly surprised.

"Prowl's collection, actually, but he said he'd like you to borrow it," the blue Datsun nodded, "He and I both agree it can get kind of dull around here when Ratchet's not yelling."

Teletraan 1 blinked shortly, frowning just a bit before an odd smile just managed to quirk up on his thin lips, "I suppose that is true. Please send my thanks to Prowl, this collection will surely assist me in passing the time."

"Will do Teletraan. Is there anything else I can do for you?" Smokescreen smiled pleasantly, his body language always relaxed and comfortable. Teletraan 1 wasn't an expert in psychology, but knew the mech was trying to keep up an easy atmosphere around them.

"Nothing that I can envisage at the moment, but I will keep your offer in mind if anything comes up," putting the datapad aside for now, Teletraan 1 managed a brief smile.

"All right, I'll let you get some more rest then," Smokescreen stood up, and gave the mech a deep nod, "I'll drop by later."

The bot simply nodded and settled himself once more as Smokescreen took his leave. The moment the blue mech was out though, he frowned deeply and let his gaze fall back to the datapad. How had Smokescreen known that he'd be interested in such a thing when they'd never even truly spoken before? It was disconcerting, but nevertheless, Teletraan 1 appreciated it.

He flicked the datapad back on, and quickly selected a story that sounded intriguing; something called _The Odyssey_. Three hours later, Teletraan 1 was back to staring at his room blankly, only now his thoughts churned over the tale he'd just absorbed, mulling over the emotional drive of the characters and trying to relate them to real life circumstances.

It was at that moment Ratchet knocked on the door before proceeding to let himself in. Turning his attention towards the medic, the bot quickly shoved away his tirade of thoughts so he could contemplate them later.

"Still holding up okay?" the white and red mech went to his side, checking over his stats to make sure his systems were all still running properly.

"Yes, Smokescreen left me with a datapad of classic human literature. It is quite…entertaining," feeling like that word was right for his muddled emotions, he was pleased to see Ratchet was accepting of his answer.

"Good to hear. And I think I've got some news you'll like too," Ratchet paused in his work, making sure they made optics contact before he proceeded, "Wheeljack just sent me confirmation that your armor's been built. I can have him bring it down and we can get it fitted."

Gaze widening ever so slightly, Teletraan 1 could only manage a small nod. Lying around in nothing but his protoform made him feel weak and vulnerable, even if he did have a blanket of sorts to keep his more delicate circuitry covered. With armor he'd be protected from outside forces, and he wouldn't be so easy to harm.

"All right, he's on his way," Ratchet opened the door, allowing Teletraan 1 a small glimpse out into the rest of the med-bay. He could just spy another mech on a berth, perhaps recovering from an injury or simply feeling ill.

"Thank you," the orange and bronze mech managed.

The medic glanced back at him, giving him another smile and a slight nod. It was odd, considering Teletraan 1 had seen vast recordings of Ratchet's normally gruff behavior and down right aggression towards his patients. Analyzing the situation, Teletraan 1 could only assume it was because he was a new variable, and Ratchet's true caring side shone in order to compensate with his unique needs. Or, Ratchet had turned over an unexpected leaf, but the probability of that was astronomical.

Just then Wheeljack decided to bustle in with all his quirkiness, his arms laden with plating. It became apparent to the former computer that Wheeljack had once again overstuffed his subspace with knick-knacks, and was now paying for it by not being able to subspace the armor the engineer had constructed for him.

"Wheeljack…" Ratchet deadpanned, but the masked mech brushed him off and bypassed him, his optics curving up in a hidden smile at Teletraan 1.

"Teletraan, you look great!" he positively beamed, literally in his case due to the glowing fins attached to the sides of his helm. Teletraan 1 could only find a growing amusement towards the fanatical inventor.

"I feel rather satisfactory as well," he managed a more subdued smile. Even if Wheeljack had been a real conundrum for him while he was still the base's super computer, now that he had a real body and emotions, he couldn't find it in himself to dislike the mech.

Teletraan 1 missed Ratchet giving him a skeptical look, fully focused on Wheeljack as the mech laid out his brand new armor for him. It appeared to be lightweight and flexible, which was far more important that sturdiness. Flexible armor could take a hit and bounce back; armor that was too hard became brittle from abuse and shattered under heavy impact.

"Once we get you fitted, we can see about scanning you an alt mode," Wheeljack hummed as he worked.

Teletraan 1's optics widened ever so slightly, having not considered the prospect he would be getting an alternative form. He blinked repeatedly, nearly speaking but his voice failed him. He barely understood his emotions as it was, and the feelings coursing through him presently simply had no words.

"I, uh…" his obligation to say something, anything, in response only caused him to sputter fruitlessly.

"You're welcome," Wheeljack cut him off, saving him from flustered embarrassment, "Now, let's get this plating on you and prove to Ratchet I can make armor that doesn't explode or spontaneously combust."

Teletraan 1 stared shortly, suddenly recalling why as a computer he'd held such caution with all projects concerning the engineer.


	7. Part 7

Hey there again! I know it's been a while, but I have not abandoned this fic yet! Sorry for keeping you guys waiting. I hope this little bit of fun will make up for it.

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PART 7

Gazing carefully over his frame, Teletraan 1 examined his new armor with a critical optic. His plating reflected the colors of his protoform beneath, with gleaming metallic bronze covering his stomach, thighs, and upper arms, while Ark orange plates protected his shoulders, forearms, chest, shins, and calves. Other than that, his armor remained rather featureless since he lacked an alt mode, though his orange helm boasted bronze decals not all too different from Prime's own spiked audio caps. He tapped the long slender points, not sure why a bubbly feeling of pure giddiness welled up within him from resembling Optimus Prime even remotely.

Even with new armor though, Teletraan 1 couldn't help but still feel small and slender, delicate even. Though he was taller than a minibot, he was still shorter than Ratchet and Wheeljack, his helm just barely reaching their shoulders. The lack of stature wore heavily on his mind. He was well aware that his frame was not built to be physically strong, but supple and easy to harm. For the Decepticons, it had made hurting him easier. Now, it just made him a target.

Despite his negative opinion of his physical stature, Teletraan 1 still found he was glad to have a bit of protection now. He trailed his fingers along his plating's seams, getting to know his appearance to the best of his ability.

"Feel okay Teletraan?" Wheeljack finally spoke up, having been waiting for the mech to get himself adjusted.

"Yes, the armor is quite light and comfortable," he paused, "Unless you were asking about my mental state…"

At that, Wheeljack chuckled warmly, "Nah you got it, don't worry. Why don't you walk around the room a bit and make sure nothing hitches?"

Nodding shortly to the engineer's request, Teletraan 1 carefully took a few steps forward. Walking was a strange experience for the small mech. Every piston and cable shifted and flexed in accordance to his thoughts, and he couldn't help but marvel over how seamless it all was. He had never walked before in his life, yet his body behaved as if he'd been doing it for centuries.

One of his knees hitched however, the armor plating rubbing against the joint just enough to hamper his movement. Perplexed, Teletraan 1 stopped, examining the joint as he tried to move it again.

"It would appear the metal is pressing against the bearing of my knee joint," the bronze and orange mech lifted his gaze to Wheeljack.

Without a word the friendly inventor went to his side, scanning over the offending knee but didn't dare touch it yet. Teletraan 1's reactions to touch were unpredictable, and getting the armor on the poor bot had been far more challenging that anyone had originally anticipated. Ratchet for one, had finally resorted to drugging Teletraan 1 after his cowering and shivering had gone on for an hour straight. At the moment however, Teletraan 1 appeared deceivingly calm about Wheeljack's close proximity to his person.

"Well, looks like an easy fix to me. Hold still for just a moment and I'll have it adjusted in less than a second," Wheeljack lifted his gaze back up to the mech, making sure the bot wouldn't flip out on him again. So far, he remained calm.

"Understood," Teletraan 1 managed, logically aware there should be no issue with a simple adjustment. His frame though was already beginning to tense and coil though, old panic rising up from depths the bot had no understanding of.

Sensing this, Wheeljack glanced up at the mech, "Hey Teletraan, can you tell me how many hours you've been awake since you got here?"

The nervous bot blinked, all thoughts suddenly revolving around the irrelevant question.

"Honestly I am uncertain, considering there were several times I stirred in and out of consciousness during the night but I did not keep track of the time. My apologies, but I cannot give an accurate number."

By the time Teletraan 1 finished speaking, Wheeljack had finished tweaking the plating around the small mech's knee. The small mech took a moment to realize what had just happened, before a slow smile grew on his features.

"Thank you Wheeljack," Teletraan 1 looked at the inventor gratefully. The distraction had worked, and the bot could now walk around without any trouble. He tested it again, and a feeling of pure delight soared up from within his frame.

"Just take it easy, or else Ratchet will have my head," the inventor chuckled.

Said medic had left while Wheeljack had been installing Teletraan 1's armor to attend to a few new patients in the med-bay, namely the terror twins Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. There had been mentioning of a prank gone wrong, but beyond that Teletraan 1 couldn't remember any of the following conversation thanks to being drugged during it.

Fixing his golden optics on the door, Teletraan 1 frowned softly to himself. Thus far, the only bots he had been in any sort of contact with were Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Smokescreen. Considering the sorry state he was in when he first encountered Prime and the others, he hardly counted it as a proper meeting. Logically, he knew that his sensitivity to being touched meant he was better off being kept away from the masses, but another part of him wanted to get to know the bots he'd silently watched over for so many millennia.

"Heya, Teletraan," Wheeljack spoke softer than he usually did, which to Teletraan 1's surprise captured his attention faster than his regular tone would have. He privately wondered why.

"Yes?"

"You know Optimus requested to meet one on one with you. Ratchet wasn't sure you were up to it, but I said you were. What do ya think?"

At first all Teletraan 1 could do was blink stupidly at the engineer, before slowly the meaning behind Wheeljack's words hit him. Instant elation surged into his spark, the unexpected high making him smile like a child who was about to meet their hero.

"I am up to it," he said the words almost too quickly. Excited as he was to talk with someone else other than Ratchet or Wheeljack, caution quickly slipped through him like a knife, cutting some of his elation down to size, "But…what does he want to say? I have never held conversation with Optimus Prime…"

At that, Wheeljack released a soft chuckle, "Relax, the big guy's just like the rest of us. Less grouchy than Ratch of course, but that just makes it better."

"Oh," Teletraan 1 frowned thoughtfully, before he finally nodded in acceptance, "I would like to meet with him. I believe I have wanted to for some time now actually."

"Well great, we'll get that set up then right after we scan you an alt," the inventor pulled out some holographic specs, but paused, "Do you want to fly or stay on the ground? Your designs are compatible either way."

Thinking for a moment, the answer was fairly clear from the get go, "I would like to remain on the ground."

"Okeydokey then! Let's set these suckers up," the finned mech quickly lined up a varying selection of ground alternate modes, some bulky and slow, others sleek and fast. He pushed a few holograms aside, opting for the more reasonable small cars that would suit his build. He slowly narrowed it down ever further, before at last he plucked the exact vehicle he desired. Looking at it from a logical standpoint, his choice simply met his particular build's needs, but another, deeper part of him was simply drawn to the quaint design.

"I would prefer obtaining this as my alt."

"Ah, the Lenham Le Mans Coupe. Good choice, not too many of those lying around," Wheeljack examined the specs, and made sure it was compatible with Teletraan 1's size. After a moment, he made the hologram large.

"Go ahead and scan, your frame will do the rest."

He hesitated, not entirely sure how to activate his body's scanner. He stared at the coupe's design hovering in front of him, wondering if like walking, he'd simply have to will the action. Much to his surprise, it was a very similar sensation. His scan quickly swept over the car's design, and his armor altered supplely, molding into a new form. His body tingled all over until suddenly, the change ended, and a strong feeling of contentment passed through the orange mech.

Before he could stop himself his frame folded in on itself, and he transformed, his compact vehicular form running softly in the center of the room.

"Oh," Teletraan 1 simply sat there on his wheels, too stunned to move. He took a moment to gather himself, testing his sensors and scanners, and noted how different his perspective was so close to the ground.

"Great job Teletraan, now try shifting into gear and driving around a bit," Wheeljack encouraged lightly, his expression rather pleased.

Not wanting to keep the inventor waiting, Teletraan 1 quickly did as he was told, finding it was second nature to shift his form into drive and roll forward. He made a slow circle around the room, hesitant of his body's new capabilities. He had little idea how fast his form could go, or if the room was even large enough for him to move at any decent speed at all.

"Looks good to me Teletraan! We'll have to convince Ratch to let you outside so you can break your new form in," Wheeljack watched the newly built mech drive around with a certain amount of pride; mostly because the armor hadn't exploded after scanning an alt.

"I would much appreciate the opportunity," the orange mech changed back into his bipedal form, dizzy for just a moment before he smiled at the engineer, "I am anxious to…try it out."

"And I'm anxious to see what you can really do," Wheeljack clapped his hands together, rubbing them in a way that made Teletraan 1 slightly uncomfortable, but for a reason he couldn't pin down.

"Now, let's get that meeting set up with Prime!"

Suddenly Teletraan 1 felt like his tanks had been filled up with cement. As excited as he was to talk with the leader, the anxiety simply thinking about what he was going to say was overwhelming. He struggled to smile, but only managed a grimace instead. Wheeljack however failed to notice, as he was already setting up an appointment.


End file.
